Ibsvejen
by JustDefy
Summary: For fourteen years, Hermione has disappeared. A chance meeting in Gothenburg tips off a series of events for Harry and Ron that will take the two on a journey to a world they never knew existed, people they never knew, never understood, never bothered to. Rated T on the safe side.
1. Prologue

15 August 1993

An owl flew inside the large building, making its way up nine sets of stairs and down a series of corridors before finally entering a room, where a man is standing there patiently conducting experiments in time. The owl deposited a small package down upon the desk, right in front of the man, and then quickly left without waiting for any response from the man.

The man in the Time Room paused from his experiments, looking at the package and casting all the protective spells on the package to make sure this isn't another attempt at bombing the Ministry building by terrorists. Seeing the package glow blue, he took a breath and gently opened the package, vanishing the brown wrapping.

There was a small golden necklace, with an hourglass and a knob at the end.

There was also an envelope accompanying said necklace. The man opened said envelope and read the words that appeared on the sheet of paper.

 _Dear Mr. Smith:_

 _I have recently heard that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, has requested for a time-turner. This is for a student of his, Hermione Jean Granger, and will allow her to take the number of classes she wants._

 _Thus, I have enclosed this time-turner to return to you, which the Ministry has allowed me to use some seventeen and a half years ago, but which I have not used since 1981, and have no intentions of ever using it again. As there are people who are in more need of a time-turner than I, it would be foolish, selfish, and counterproductive for me to retain this item._

 _You yourself know how important and how dangerous this piece of equipment may be. One simple change, one simple accident, and the entire world will be changed, irrevocably, forever. It is extremely frightening to imagine what could happen if this time-turner here lands in the wrong hands. Thus, it is imperative that this time-turner gets safely into the hands of Headmaster Dumbledore, and from there, to Miss Granger._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Juana de Condé_

 _Professor of Potions_

Placing the letter down, the man turned to analysing the time-turner. Although it was had been used prior to that day, it is in impeccable condition; whoever de Condé was, she had taken good care of this. There were no scratches, no dents, nothing that can indicate of any usage before. It was, undoubtedly, like new. Headmaster Dumbledore would be proud of him, and this student of his would most definitely be happy.

The man knew what he had to do. Before long, a letter was written, and his own personal owl was on his way to Hogwarts with a similar package as the one that had just come half an hour ago.


	2. A Sight at Gothenburg

4 July 2012

There was something about the woman standing two persons ahead of him, although Neville couldn't really put the finger on the exact reason.

It is probably the hair, he thought.

The brunette, with all her wild hair, stood out amongst the sea of blondes in Gothenburg. Her short, petite status didn't help either, as even with a person as short as she was, she was still unmistakably visible from a far distance.

When he first saw her that day, she strode into the building with such ferocity as to invoke memories of a former professor of his, a professor known for intimidation and brutality. She was wearing all black, and if it wasn't for her hair, her shortness, and her most definite lack of wizarding cloak, he would probably have mistaken her for that former professor. That scared him to death, even eleven years after his last sight of that professor.

Thankfully for Neville, the professor is dead, and has been dead for eleven years.

"Excuse me, madam?" Neville asked that woman.

She turned around, making eye contact at Neville, and then turned back and then spoke in a hurried, slightly frightened voice to the person behind her and in front of Neville.

"Anna Carlsson, we're blocking the way. We have to leave."

The two of them stepped out of the line, and moved to the side.

"Good idea. We have to get to St-Jean-Pied-du-Port anyways," the blonde told the brunette, and the two of them ran away. Neville blinked, and they were gone.

Before the two of them disappeared, Neville spotted two scars on the brunette, two unmistakenable scars - one on the back hand of hers, and the other on her neck. There were words on her hand, faint ones, but words nevertheless, no doubt a result of a blood quill from some dark wizard or something.

The second scar was a knife scar.

It was perhaps the most important discovery for Neville Longbottom in his years of teaching, a piece of information that could be very helpful in solving a 14-year-old mystery, one that the men and women in the wizarding Scotland Yard have been incapable of resolving.

4 July 2012, later that night

"Minerva!"

Neville burst through, his face flushed red from running, his breath heavy and rough.

"What is it with you, Neville, that has you running back to Hogwarts not a day after you left?"

"I have seen her! I have found her!"

"I don't follow. Who have you seen and why is it causing you such great distress?"

"It's Hermione!"

"Hermione? Hermione Granger? But she's been lost for more than ten years."

"Precisely why I'm like this, Minerva. I've seen her, and nearly got ahold of her."

"And where did this happen?"

"In Gothenburg. I was queueing at the Gothenburg City Theatre to see the new play Arkivet för orealiserbara drömmar och visioner by Marcus Lindeen and Ingmar Bergman when all of a sudden I noticed her."

Minerva smiled a little at the first part of the sentence. Not many people knew of Neville's fascination with all things related to Swedish theatre and that he spent much of his free time going around and watching plays written by Kurt Andersson, Staffan Goethe, and Brita von Horn.

"Had Colin been there, he would most definitely have taken a picture of her, and it would be almost identical to the pictures of Hermione we had. I tried to talk with her, but unfortunately I think I might have given her a huge scare, and she ran away before I was able to get any further.

I, however have a fear that somebody may have wiped her memory clear. I was wearing my cloak at the time, but not only did it seem that Hermione didn't recognise me, she was actually scared and startled that I was there, and that doesn't seem like Hermione at all."

Minerva nodded.

"She was accompanied by another person, I think, but I do not remember who the other person was. But before they disappeared, one of them mentioned to the other that they had to be in St-Jean-Pied-du-Port soon, so I assume that they should be there by tomorrow at the latest.

Now, unfortunately, I don't know where she will go afterwards, but I have a busy schedule this summer, so even though I want to I do not have enough time to spend searching for her, especially somewhere in the mountains down south."

"Then who will track her down, bring her back here, and undo the obliviate?"

"I would suggest Harry. He is already down in the south of France, and it wouldn't be too far to get him to St-Jean-Pied-du-Port."

"And the Weasley boy as well, perhaps."

Neville turned around at the portraits. Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait is, as always, sleeping. Severus Snape's portrait is never there, and Minerva has honestly been thinking of taking down that bloody silent frame. And of course, there was Dumbledore, with that bowl of lemon drops in the frame and now a twinkle in his eye.

Neville knew what Dumbledore was talking about, after all, after all these years Ron was still pining for Hermione, despite all the things he had done to her the three years before she disappeared.

"Yes, Ron too. It would more than concern him that his crush has lost all her memories."

"Very well then. I will contact them as soon as possible, and inform them of what has occurred."

Neville left the room, leaving Minerva pondering on the past, or more specifically, the past of Hermione.


	3. Saint-Jean-Pied-du-Port

AN: Thank you all who commented last time and all the wonderful feedback I received.

* * *

5 July 2012

It was early in the morning when an owl came flying through the open window and threw a white envelope on Harry Potter's sleeping face.

Harry awoke with a start, as if his wife had just slapped him in the face. He wiped the gunk away from his eyes and slowly got out of bed, as the envelope fell onto the floor with a thunk. His mind still not awake, he stumbled into the loo.

It wasn't until he was awake and fully dressed that he noticed the envelope lying on the ground at his feet.

Picking it up, he read,

 _Dear Harry,_

 _After fourteen years, we may finally have a clue as to where Hermione Granger went to._

 _Just yesterday, the fourth, Neville was walking around Gothenburg when he just happened to see somebody that just looked like Hermione. Of course, a lot more happened, so to be succinct with you, Neville tried to talk with her, but ended up scaring her and she ran away. She was travelling with another woman, and before leaving the second mentioned that they needed to be at a small town called St.-Jean-Pied-du-Port, which I believe is at the south of Frnace._

 _Thus, I need you to go immediately to that town so we could finally find where she is._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva_

The town mentioned in the letter has been visited by Harry once before in his life as an auror, during one of his earlier searches throughout the continent for Hermione. It is indeed in the south of France, so far south that had Spain been any successful in any of its wars against France during the 18th century it would have been located in Spain. There wasn't much to see within the city itself, unless one wants to view old buildings of schist, as it is only composed of one main street that loops around itself. To Harry, in a sense, it was a perfect destination for people who want to hide from the rest of society, people, he assumed, like Hermione - it is so bland of a village that of course nobody else would dare travel there and spend the rest of their lives living there.

Harry did not want to return to the town, but if he was to find Hermione than he would have to. With a sigh, he packed his belongings with him and apparated to the entrance of the city.

5 July 2012, noon

Harry was sitting at a table within the Restaurant Oillarburu with a map and a muggle pen, marking off sections of St-Jean-Pied-du-Port to indicate places of the town he has already visited, when another man approached the table he is sitting at.

"May I sit here?" he asked in the French typical of the Nice area, though Harry isn't well versed in French accents enough to distinguish Nice's French from the other French accents in the south of France.

"Yes, you can."

The man paused for a few seconds, before finally sitting down in front of Harry. Then he stared at Harry, analysing him, before drawling out, "Well, I see. Hello, Mr. Potter. I am Albino Pecchia. Nice to meet you."

Harry took out his hand and placed it above the table, waiting for Harry to take ahold of it in a firm handshake.

Harry, after fourteen years of fame and hundreds of thousands of people fangirling and fanboying after him, is used to random people recognising him out in random places at random times. This man's reaction to his sight is one of the more polite and respectful in his experiences; usually it would involve somebody shouting "My God, it's Harry Potter!" immediately followed by a scramble as everybody stood up and tried to get as close to Harry as possible. Thus, it was perhaps most advisable if Harry responded the politeness with his own politeness by shaking his hand, as he would appreciate a tiny bit of calmness and quiet.

"Very well. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Pecchia. Are you Italian, by any chance?"

"No, if you're talking about me. I am about as French and as Italian as the next Tom, Dick, and Harry in rural towns in the centre of France; I was born in France, raised up in France, had a solid French education, and my entire career revolved around training the next generation of Frenchmen and women. Many people make that mistake because I'm from the Nice-Savoy area of France, and it is very close to Italy."

"Hmmm. I've never been to that area of France before."

"You should go there some time. It's very beautiful, right on the shore of the Mediterranean sea. It has good weather as well."

"I'll think about that. My wife has always wanted to go see the Mediterranean and the beaches by the sea, and unfortunately we currently do not have the time to do so."

"Why not?"

"Work. I'm an auror, and I'd had this one mission to track down this woman who disappeared fourteen years ago, and for fourteen years I've been crisscrossing the continent to find her."

"But you are here."

"I received a clue that she might have come here. I am still working, even now. I do not get a break until this mission is complete."

"Well, too bad. I thought you were going to hike the Camino for the summer. Who is this woman you speak of?"

"Hermione Granger."

"I do not recognise her name."

"She is a short woman, about this short," Harry flattened his hand and put it at about his neck, the palm parallel to the tabletop, "and had brown eyes and long, bushy brown hair. Here are some pictures of her." He brought some moving photos out of Hermione, from more than fourteen years ago, and showed it to Albino.

"Hmmm," Albino said, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Have you seen her, or anybody that looks like her, recently?"

There was a long pause, a very long pause, until a waitress walked up to the two of them and asked for what they wanted to have for lunch. The two of them ordered food, and then waited for the waitress to leave before resuming conversation.

"I know an act of futility when I see one, Mr. Potter."

"What do you mean, Mr. Pecchia?"

"I've lived for a very long period of time, Mr. Potter. I was one of the leaders of the resistance against Grindelwald back when he was still a threat to the world's society. A couple of years of experience as a guerrilla warrior had lead me to become experienced in identifying what is key to winning the war and what is a giant waste of time, resources, and energy. Getting Mr. Dumbledore to wake up from his self-imposed ignorance is key; searching for an old friend of mines who I haven't seen in thirty-two years and who most definitely changed dramatically during the thirty-two years is not, especially when those years of no contact has definitely made us distant from each other. When I became Headmaster of Beauxbatons, this fact is made clear and clear time and time again. There are students who were some of the most immature out there, who still had the behaviours of a twelve-year-old when they graduate. Twenty years later, we met, and I did not recognise them, for they had changed so much. I did not seek for them, nor did they seek for me."

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Pecchia, for all your kind, considerate, and helpful words. You were the Headmaster of Beauxbatons, and the others were all students who went through Beauxbatons. Of course you wouldn't remember them, for there are so many of them. If you don't know, as you do not seem to know, Hermione Granger is my closest friend, and when she disappeared from the face of the planet I was devestated. Your situation and mines are not comparable, in any fashion or manner."

"You still have a lot to learn from life, Mr. Potter."

"Goddamn it, Mr. Pecchia, you sound like a mixture of Dumbledore and Snape. Now answer my original question."

"Which was what?"

"Have you seen Hermione Granger recently?"

"What do you mean by recently?"

"Like either today or yesterday?"

The waitress came back with their food, and Mr. Pecchia began eating.

"No, I have not. I have not seen this Hermione Granger person. I'm sorry, if this isn't the answer you are looking for."

Harry Potter shook his head, and began eating as well.


	4. Three Stories

5 June 2012, late evening

Harry Potter is frustrated. He had prowled through much of Saint-Jean-Pied-du-Port without finding any sign of Hermione Granger for the entire day. Everybody he had asked along the way about the whereabouts of Hermione Granger looked at him in a puzzled manner, as if Harry had stated that he is an undead Bellatrix Lestrange who does pole dancing for a living. Even worse, when he did show the others of the pictures of Hermione and what she looked like, they only continued to stare at him weirdly. Moreover, there was a senile old man who during his lunch tried to get him to stop on this search, as if he had any clue what is going on.

And now it was dinner, and the first thing he had heard when he entered the restaurant was a voice from the right of him, clear and loud and in French.

"Oh My God; it's Harry Potter!"

With that, everybody's heads popped up in the direction of the voice, and then, since the source of the voice and Harry were very close to each other, turned towards Harry himself.

And such is the situation Harry found himself in, surrounded by yet another group of fans eager to get autographs of him signed, and eager to hear Harry tell them stories of his life, and in general eager to just see him. Thus, all the tables of the restaurants were rearranged into one giant circle, so each and every person can see Harry, and Harry can likewise see each and every person.

Halfway through the dinner, a man from Lyons by the name of Laurence Stuart asked Harry, "Is it true that you were attacked by a werewolf when you were a child?"

Harry sighed. "Yes I was."

"I heard rumours of that, but I wasn't sure of those rumours. So are you a werewolf now?"

"I was attacked. I was not bitten; those two things are not the same."

"Ah, you successfully defended yourself from a werewolf in your childhood? Well, that should be expected, since you are the same person who defeated that Maître Sombre twice and killed that Slytherin snake at your school," another responded. Harry had earlier talked about the basilisk that he and Ron had killed during his second year at Hogwarts.

Monsieur Stuart continued, "Why don't you tell us how that came about?" This was followed by a wave of agreement noises around the restaurant that all but guaranteed that Harry was going to tell the story.

"Fine, fine, fine, I will." Harry took a deep breath, and then began.

"Before we start, let me explain some of the background of this story, as throughout the years I have learned that not everybody is familiar with it. Afterwards, we will continue with the story.

My father James Potter had three friends whose names are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew; they were the closest friends together in Hogwarts during the 1970s - they would do everything together, from Quidditch to studying together to just chilling in the fields in the afternoon sipping drinks from the Three Broomsticks. This tight-knit friendship continued after they left school for a little more than three more years.

Remus was a werewolf, and he had a little shack of his own next to Hogwarts named the Shrieking Shack in this ferocious tree called the Whomping Willow, reserved for when he became a werewolf so others do not get hurt. They were such close friends that when the three others found out of Remus's status as a werewolf, instead of rejecting him as many others would have done, they took the difficult steps to becoming animagi, James a stag, Sirius a dog, and Peter a rat.

What ended the friendship was Lord Voldemort and his actions. He was going after everybody against him, which included my father and his friends. Voldemort especially pursued the four of them, because he got wind of the now-famous prophecy stating that the son of either James or another family's was going to end up defeating him, and decided that I was to be the person that the prophecy referred to.

Thus, James and my mother Lily went into hiding and Peter Pettigrew was made the keeper of the Fidelius Charm that protected the two of them. Nobody else knew except for the five of them, or otherwise it defeats the purpose of the Fidelius Charm. However, Voldemort captured Peter and tortured him until he succumbed to Voldemort's wishes and told him everything. Thus, Voldemort killed my parents and failed to kill me.

Now, Peter had just betrayed his best friends and they were going to rat him out and send him to prison for life. Knowing that, he decided to kill a few people and frame it on Sirius, and then proceeded to make Remus unconscious for three months in Norfolk so Remus wouldn't be present for Sirius's trial to tell the truth, before running away to Egypt and hiding as a pet rat in the hands of Ron.

Now come my third year at Hogwarts, and Sirius has just escaped from Askaban and was disguised as a dog roaming around Hogwarts. Remus was teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, although nearly nobody knew that Remus was a werewolf, and Peter was Ron's pet rat named Scabbers that he carried every day.

Now it is the sixth of June of 1994, and Ron, I, and another friend of mines named Hermione Granger were just leaving Hagrid's house when Peter disguised as Scabbers escaped once again. Ron ran after Peter, and caught him right next to the Whomping Willow. However, Sirius was waiting outside the shack, and he knows that Ron is carrying Peter, and wants to kill Peter for betraying him, so he brings Ron inside the tree.

Hermione and I followed Ron into the interior of the tree, because neither of us wanted Ron to get hurt in any way, but the passage wound itself into the Shrieking Shack, and what did we find? Sirius, who we still thought was a criminal, and a badly wounded Ron without his wand or any other protection. Sirius and I got into a giant fight, which I eventually won and forced his confession out that Sirius murdered my parents.

Then Remus arrived, and Hermione had deduced throughout the year that Remus was a werewolf, and accuses Remus of being a werewolf and Sirius's accomplice as well in whatever evil scheme they supposedly had. Remus admits to his status as a werewolf, but denies the second contested point. Remus proceeds to then tells us three that he had found us through a map he helped create when he was back at school, and that Scabbers is actually Peter.

Naturally, we did not believe Remus, so Remus explained everything, his life, the origins of the shack and the tree, and more. After he was finished, Sirius continued with the story of his innocence, how he, James, and Peter became animagi, and the true story behind the death of James and the killing of the 12 people, and how he managed to escape Askaban and come here, and what he has done after Askaban.

Then they forced Peter from his rat form into his human form, and interrogated him as to his reasons why he betrayed them for Voldemort. They were about to kill him when I stepped in and said that it would be better if we could use Peter as evidence that Sirius is innocent. Thus, all of us exited from the shack towards the castle, in the hope that Sirius can become free and that I could have a normal, happy life.

Unfortunately, we had all forgotten that the sixth of June was a full moon, and during our walk back, Remus transformed into a werewolf. In our confusion as to what we were to do, Peter knocked Ron unconscious and escaped as a rat. Remus tried to attack us, and Sirius turned into a dog in order to prevent Remus from getting at us. After a brutal fight, Sirius was able to fight Remus to a standstill and Remus's werewolf form ran into the forest. And that was my encounter with an attacking werewolf."

Silence hung around the room as the others took in the story and the information.

Then, a Dutchman from Antwerpen named Rudolf Krage spoke. "Is this Remus Lupin fellow still alive?"

"No, he is no longer alive. He died trying to fight Voldemort and his forces, in the last battle at Hogwarts."

"Such a shame. If he had lived even a single day longer, then he could have had his lyncathropy cured."

"What?" Harry asked in shock.

"I presume you haven't heard of Javier de Condé, then."

"No, I haven't."

"Well," Rudolf explained, "Monsieur de Condé is a very famous Spanish Potions Master, famous for his new potions and his innovations in efficency in time and resources in existing potions. He has taken Burbage's outdated set of Potion textbooks and rewritten all of them with all the discoveries and changes in potions theory and applications in the past fifty years when he rewrote them; his textbooks have been translated into hundreds of languages and are now the standard textbooks used in Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Salem, and fifteen other wizarding academies all around the world for over twenty years now.

Thus, it shouldn't be surprising that de Condé would regard the Wolfsbane Potion as being substandard and capable of improvements. Working from a laboratory from Calais for eight straight years, seven of them alone and the eighth one with his wife, he was able to deconstruct the Wolfsbane and experiment and analyse one by one changes to the potion, until he was able to get a working and stable potion.

The third through tenth of May was the trial period for the potion. The de Condés had a list of various werewolves from around Europe that could participate in the trial, and I was one of them on the list. I was informed through the mail, and eagerly proceeded to their labratories in Calais. I took the potion, and then waited for the eleventh of May, which a full moon was present.

The eleventh of May came and passed, and nothing happened to me, which indicated that the potion was successful and that I no longer had lyncathropy. The de Condés made me write a journal for every day there was a full moon for the next year or so, just to make sure that it wasn't just a temporary situation, but for the past fourteen years or so, I am lyncathropy free and have never transformed since the day I took the potion.

Within the fourteen years since, the world's werewolf population has decreased significantly, because both werewolves and the international wizarding society have recognized that they aren't all that different from each other..."

A third person spoke up next, a Romanian from Cluj-Napoca named Carol Vasilescu, "It is interesting how you, Monsieur Potter, told the story you did, and it is interesting how you, Monsieur Krage, brought up Javier de Condé and his experiences with curing werewolves, because my brother had a similar experience with a werewolf as you did, Monsieur Potter, that involves said werewolf and Professor de Condé.

For those who do not know, Javier de Condé was not only just a fantastic Potions Master, he also has a Masters in Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Defence Against the Dark Arts as well, and between September of 1982 and the end of June of 1990, back when Albino Pecchia was still headmaster, he was the resident Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Beauxbatons. During his days as a student, he would come up with various new spells like Unliamedra, a spell used to grow somebody's toenails out, and write them all over his textbooks. It was Professor de Condé who came up with the reversal spell to the very dark spell Sectumsempra, a couple months before joining the Beauxbatons staff.

In Beauxbatons, there is also a shack on the grounds of Beauxbatons near the castle. That shack dates from Grindelwald's War, built as a headquarters for the Resistance against Grindelwald, and when his forces from the north of France and Belgium came down into the South and overran Beauxbatons and the surroundings, from below the shack a series of tunnels connecting various Resistance locations was constructed as they turned this war around into a guerilla war that they knew Grindelwald was going to lose.

After Grindelwald's War ended, there was no longer any need for that headquarters shack, so it just remained empty for the next couple of decades or so. Sometime during that time, a werewolf had taken residence inside of that shack, in direct violation of French law. That werewolf is a squatter in that situation, and he is also trespassing Beauxbaton's lands.

Anyways, my brother was in his third year as well, and it was towards the end of his the third year when this event happened. That day, they all thought, as we all did, that the shack was empty and thus safe to enter. My brother entered the shack, followed by two of his friends, and indeed the shack they first encountered was empty. That is because the werewolf is out taking a walk, and when he soon returned he put the three under terrible conditions.

Professor de Condé soon noticed that my brother and his two friends were missing from the grounds, and concluded that they must have gone into the shack. He entered the shack and finds the werewolf and the three children. He attempts to arrest the werewolf on the spot for trespassing and squatting, but unfortunately he was stunned, presumably by the werewolf, and laid down to rot in the shack.

However, his arrival distracted the werewolf enough that my brother and his friends were able to escape from the shack and make their way back to the main building. The werewolf tried to follow them, but he soon lost track of them. We do not know what happened after the werewolf lost track of him, but presumably he may have transformed and ran into the forest bordering the school, as Professor de Condé was able to wake up and make his way back to the castle safely."

"Now, I think it is getting a little late," Carol then said, pointing out the window at the now dark skies, "and I'm pretty sure we all have busy days tomorrow, with the majority of us probably making our way down south along the Camino towards Roncevalles."

A murmur of agreement went around the restaurant, and then people began standing up to get ready to leave.

"Wait, everybody!" Harry shouted, stopping everybody in their tracks. "Have any of you seen Hermione Granger, before we finish this?"

Harry was met with a sea of incredulity, as everybody shook their heads.

Someone in the crowd asked back, "Didn't you say that she was one of your best friends? Wouldn't she say where she is, or be here with you in this restaurant?"

"She was my friend. She has disappeared from the face of the earth fourteen years ago, and I've been searching for her ever since," Harry responded.

"Monsieur Potter, I have to talk to you, but this will have to take place tomorrow morning, as it is indeed very late. What I will reveal to you tomorrow may help you on your quest for her, your quest for the truth."

Harry turned around. It was Carol. The two of them nodded, shook hands, and the latter departed from the restaurant.


End file.
